


Better Now

by HotCat37



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Domestic husbands getting a raccoon, Gallavich is endgame y'all, M/M, Okay I ain't gonna tag all the characters but yeah, raccoons - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:29:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24356593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HotCat37/pseuds/HotCat37
Summary: The animal jumps up and catches it in it's mouth, then falls back on it's ass as it starts devouring the food."Fat little fuck, ain't he?" Sandy curiously watches the raccoon."That's what I said!" Mickey grins at his cousin.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Lip Gallagher/Tami Tamietti
Comments: 8
Kudos: 120





	Better Now

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: I decided to just have this whole one-shot be about Apollo instead, I apologize to those who bookmarked it specifically for the venting part :'') It just kinda left me with a bad taste in my mouth, and I think there's other writers on here who might be better at handling that specific subject. I might still write a parallel to Downtown (where it's Ian reflecting instead of Mickey) but we'll see about that.  
> Again, apologies to those who were more interested in the venting part :')

"Mick!" Ian yells into the (relatively) quiet Gallagher house.

"Shut up, Ian!" Lip's voice calls out from the hallway.

"Fuck you." Ian hears Mickey's muffled voice.

Keeping his eyes on the situation on their front porch, Ian motions for Mickey to come closer when he hears his husband strut down the stairs.

"What'chu screamin' about now?" Mickey gruffly asks as he walks over.

"That. _That_ shit right there." Ian points at the animal invading their trash can, half-heartedly hiding behind Mickey's body.

There's a fucking raccoon on the porch. At 10 PM on a fucking Saturday, and there's a damn _raccoon on the porch._

Ian's losing his shit.

"I don't see the problem." Mickey simply confesses, watching the raccoon with a blank look on his face.

"You don't see the-a raccoon's eatin' our trash! You have to chase it off the porch, Mick!"

Before Mickey has a chance to complain in return, the raccoon notices them and hisses, baring it's teeth. Ian sputters and stumbles further inside the house, hovering behind Mickey as his husband meanly laughs at his reaction.

"You're a grown-ass man, Gallagher! It's just a raccoon, it don't bite." Mickey fondly watches Ian glare at the fluffy animal.

"It might have rabies......" Ian mutters and takes yet another step back when the raccoon gets a little closer to the door.

"Fat little fuck, ain't he?" Ian squints his eyes and true to Mickey's words, notices that the raccoon is rather chubby. Sure, it _looks_ pretty cute, but Ian knows raccoons can't be trusted. They're aggressive motherfuckers.

Mickey squats down in front of the soft little fuck, looking at it with a strange kind of interest in his eyes that takes Ian off guard. He didn't really peg Mickey for an animal guy, but it didn't exactly surprise Ian either. Briefly, he realizes that even though they're married, Ian's still got a lot to unpack about his husband.

"He's not that aggressive." Mickey comments, carelessly sticking out his hand at the raccoon.

"Mickey! Take your hand back, he'll bite you!" Ian scolds, in disbelief by Mickey's reckless behavior.

"Chill your tits, Ian. He's not gonna do anything........" Mickey whistles at it, urging it to come closer.

"If you think we're keepin' that thing as a pet, you're wrong. It's illegal in this state, anyways." Ian skeptically observes his husband cooing over the little demon from hell.

Surprisingly, the raccoon hasn't attacked yet. If anything, it's very.....calm for a wild raccoon. Fucking hell, it barely even reacts when Mickey scratches behind it's round ears.

"The little shit's really peaceful......." Mickey completely ignores Ian's warnings in favor of petting it.

"They eat phone chargers, Mick! I read about that online." Ian crosses his arms over his chest.

"We keep the chargers upstairs, man, not like the fucker's ever gonna come up there."

"You're right, he won't because we're not keeping a pet raccoon!"

"Never said anythin' 'bout that." Mickey points out.

"I don't trust 'im. Why is he so tame?" Ian doesn't put a stop to his obnoxious glaring.

"What did raccoons ever do to ya?" And Mickey makes kissy noises, honest to God, _kissy_ noises at the little shit. Ian can't believe his own fucking eyes.

"Have you been possessed?" Ian narrows his eyes at the strange sight before him.

"Excuse the fuck outta me for not throwin' a tantrum whenever a wild animal gets to our trash." Mickey cups the raccoon's face, the raccoon playfully bites at his hand in return.

"This is the only time I've ever thrown a 'tantrum' about wild animals in our trash!" Ian protests, mildly offended.

"Nah, you throw a fit whenever Frank appears too."

"Okay, that's it!" Ian puffs out his chest and side-steps Mickey to get to the raccoon.

"Get outta here! Shoo!" He flails his arms around, making the animal hiss and jump backwards.

"Ian, come on-"

_"OUT!"_ Ian claps his hands and smiles triumphantly when the chubby little bastard fucks off.

He's just starting to pick up the loose pieces of garbage again when he turns to look at his husband, who's being awfully quiet.

Mickey fixes him with a blank stare.

"Mick?" The mall security promptly ignores Ian and turns around to go back inside the house.

Ian sighs and drops the rest of the garbage into the trash can. Mickey's sitting at the kitchen table with a beer in his hand, still with that blank look on his face. The sparkle in his eyes when he was playing with the raccoon now gone. Reduced to nothing.

"Are you really mad at me right now?" Ian speaks up, a little confused.

"No. Not at all."

"I think you are......" Ian quietly urges.

"Ay, does it matter? Let's just go to sleep already." Mickey shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. He gulps down the rest of his beer in one go.

"Mickey, c'mon, if you wanna talk about it-" But Mickey's already stalking up the stairs.

"I don't." He simply replies.

Damn it. Milkoviches and talking about feelings. Not a good match, even after all these years.

If Ian thought brushing their teeth next to each other in pure silence, no bantering or complaining, was awkward, well, lying in the bed was worse. They weren't cuddling yet, just uncomfortably lying on their backs beside one another.

A few minutes into their awkwardness, Ian takes a shot and gently reaches out for Mickey's hand. Mickey lets him intertwine their fingers, but Ian swears he can see his husband roll his eyes, even in the darkness of the room.

For a second, Ian considers maybe just letting go of his hand and leaving Mickey be. But then Mickey's moving around and throwing one leg over Ian's and one arm around his torso.

Like a damn octopus.

Ian's a bit taken off guard, Mickey usually only holds Ian like this in the early hours of the morning, when the spooning position has become too stiff. Mickey nuzzles his face into Ian's neck as the other man in return wraps his arms around Mick's smaller form.

"Asshole....." Mickey suddenly murmurs into his skin, before pressing a kiss to the spot. 

Ian goes over the word inside his head for a moment, and the contrasting action accompanying it.

Insult, softly murmured while in a cuddling position, afterwards an act of affection.......

Ian's been paying attention to Mickey's body language over the years. While Mickey is still somewhat of an enigma to Ian, probably will always be, Ian's pretty in tune with his emotions after all these years.

This means "I'm a little dissapointed, but I still love you.....asshole."

He'd done something similair to this when Ian had accidentally broken his Bon Jovi-themed beer glass. But why is he-

Oh fuck. Right. The raccoon. Ian just mindlessly chased it off the porch, because, well _raccoons_ and it's become basic instinct at this point.

As Ian's brain struggles to comprehend all the new information he's just received, he puts the puzzle pieces together.

Raccoons. Animals. .......animals make Mickey happy, he's just embarrassed to admit it, which is why he told Ian nothing's wrong.

Excellent detective work, Gallagher.

Ian feels a little ridicilous for being so slow with the whole thing but alas, he's sleepy as hell.

Okay, not great. Ian's chased something that made Mickey happy off the porch without second thought. Then again, most people aren't particularly fond of raccoons.

Just when Ian thinks about sharing the news with his husband, that he's figured him all out, he realizes Mickey's already fallen asleep.

Fuck. Okay.

He'll just have to make up for it in the morning.

During said morning, Mickey is more cuddly than usual. But he doesn't have the lost look in his eyes, or the blank one from yesterday, so Ian isn't concerned by it. They're sitting at the table eating eggs, Mickey practically plastered against Ian's side, eyes still heavy with sleep.

"What's with you this morning, huh?" Lip asks, not unkind.

"None of your business, fuck you very much......" Mickey mutters, flipping Lip off. "Just takin' my daily dose of husband."

Ian snorts beside him whereas Lip doesn't visibly react. Sandy grins at them from where she's perched up on the kitchen counter.

"Little domestic-"

"Bitches." Ian finishes for her.

"What the hell's with the scratching?" Carl speaks up suddenly.

"What scratching?" Debbie raises an eyebrow at her brother.

"At the door." Liam supplies instead.

Huh. Ian glances back at the front door and listens to the very light scratching sounds against the wood.

"Someone should take a look." Sandy lazily suggests.

"Not me." Debbie says at the speed of light.

"Lip?" Liam eyes his older brother expectingly.

"Can't. Gotta feed the kid." Fred, as if on cue, starts babbling and reaching his tiny little hands out towards the spoon Lip's holding.

"Tami?"

"Fuck no." Tami looks at Liam as if he's just made a ridicilous joke.

"Mickey should do it." Carl grins at Mickey, annoying him to the point he scowls in return.

"Why the fuck should I do it, huh?" Mickey huffs.

"Because you're tough and strong!" Ian answers, putting on a falsely innocent tone.

"Your nearly six foot ass ain't strong enough, eh?" Mickey rolls his eyes and begrudgingly gets up.

"If it's the cops I'm gonna lose my fuckin' mind......" Mickey grumbles all the way to the front door.

He opens the door with a frown on his face that only deepens when he isn't immediately met with a person at eye level. It takes him a full second to register that he isn't looking for a person, but rather, for a-

"OH MY _GOD!"_ Debbie screeches and Mickey is too late to try and stop the raccoon from going into the house.

"Motherfucker!" Lip, being the grown-ass man he is, scoops Fred out of his seat and hops onto the kitchen counter with him, pulling his legs all the way up.

"Fucking _hell!"_ Tami is quick to join her boyfriend.

"Cool!" Carl on the other hand, looks delighted with the fluffy fucker, throwing his piece of toast at it.

The animal jumps up and catches it in it's mouth, then falls back on it's ass as it starts devouring the food.

"Fat little fuck, ain't he?" Sandy curiously watches the raccoon.

"That's what I said!" Mickey grins at his cousin.

Ian's currently standing on his chair and questioning all his life decisions. Maybe chasing the raccoon away was a bad idea after all. Of course the little shit would return for revenge.

"He's fucking cute!" Sandy, just like Mickey the night before, is completely smitten by the dangerous animal. To Ian's disbelief, the raccoon once again doesn't seem bothered when Sandy starts petting it's tail.

The fucker must be domesticated or some shit, because Ian has no idea how else a raccoon could be so chill about being petted by a bunch of strangers.

"Can we keep him?" Carl asks hopefully.

"It's illegal in this state......" Liam quietly murmurs, cautiously watching the raccoon.

"Nah, better if we don't......" Surprisingly, it's Mickey that says it. He walks over to the raccoon and picks it up without hesitation, the animal only scratches his arms slightly in return.

Ian sees the fond way Mickey looks down at the animal, sees that spark in his eyes there again. The happy spark.

And God, Ian absolutely _hates_ raccoons. He hates the little shits for reasons unknown to even himself, but he doesn't like the fuckers.

But Mickey looks so happy with the animal, and okay, maybe the raccoon is kind of cute. It's not _that_ aggressive, either.

"We'll keep 'im." Ian suddenly speaks up, much to everyone's shock.

"Say what?" Mickey looks up at Ian in confusion.

"Y'know that's illegal, right?" Lip reminds Ian, looking at him as though he's gone absolutely mental.

"Not the first time we've done somethin' illegal." Ian shoots back in return. He slowly sits back down on his chair, still keeping a close eye on the toast-eating raccoon in Mickey's arms.

Again, he hates raccoons. But the smile Mickey sends Ian is enough to make up for it.

"True." Liam shrugs.

Tami is surprisingly quiet, not complaining like she usually would. Then again, she'll be moving out soon, so she might've finally realized that her opinion is completely irrelevant.

"I don't think keeping raccoons as pets is such a good idea......." Debbie shudders at the thought of Franny interacting with the small demon.

"Well, sleeping with minors isn't such a good idea either, but you don't hear us complaining." Although said without any bite, Ian didn't feel at all ashamed of his statement.

Debbie is quick to shut up after that, but not without sending Ian a pretty solid glare.

"What're you gonna name 'im? I see a dick, so it's a guy." Sandy pats the raccoon on it's head as Mickey ponders a name.

"Max?" Debbie meekly prompts.

"Max is a dog name." Mickey shakes his head.

"We should call 'im 666!" Carl widely smirks, as if he's just come up with a genius idea.

"Fuck no." Lip snorts mildly amused at the suggestion.

"What about Gallavich?" Ian suggests, knowing Mickey gets a kick out of the name.

And Mickey _does_ laugh at it, but in a rather mocking way.

"Gallagher, you and I both know that name's cursed. We ain't callin' my raccoon that." Mickey voices his opinion loud and clear.

_Mickey's_ raccoon. Ian hides his grin behind his mug.

"Bandit?" Sandy speaks up.

"Fitting, but hasn't your dad's fucked up cat already claimed that name?" Bummer. Bandit would've been nice, Mickey thinks.

"Oh, yeah. That's true."

"Well, if all those names aren't good enough why don't _you_ come up with somethin'?" Tami impatiently asks, sending Mickey a pointed look.

Mickey thinks for another second before shrugging, hugging the fat raccoon tighter to his chest.

"Guess Apollo will do." He decides.

"You're gonna call 'im _Apollo?_ Why the fuck would you do that?!" Carl cries out in disbelief.

"Because I fuckin' like the name Apollo. Got a problem with that?" Mickey's eyebrows skyrocket to his hairline again as Carl holds up his hands in surrender. If those eyebrows have reached the hairline there's no point arguing anymore.

"Fine. Apollo it is, then......"

Later, when everyone else has fucked off to mind their own business, and Ian and Mickey are left alone in the kitchen with Apollo, Ian speaks up:

"That raccoon's an ugly motherfucker."

"He'll fit right in." Mickey's smile is crooked and beautiful, Ian feels as though he's been shot in the heart by Cupid in this very moment.

"Yeah, he'll fit in with all the other ugly motherfuckers in this household......." Despite the fond-sounding words, Ian still takes a big fucking step backwards when Apollo tries reaching out for Ian's Pop Tart.

"I hope the little fuck won't drown in our pool." Mickey thoughtfully comments.

_Our_ pool. Ian has nowhere to hide his grin behind this time.

"The fuck you grinnin' about?" Mickey nods at Ian's stupid-looking grin.

"Nothin'. You just look really fucking cute......" Ian admits with a simple shrug.

Mickey's cheeks tint pink as he laughs and shakes his head.

"Yeah, yeah, fuck you."

"I'm serious, Mick. Loving animals is fucking sexy." Ian waggles his eyebrows obnoxiously, completely forgetting about Apollo as he walks up to his husband.

"Yeah? Me cooin' over some dirty raccoon does it for you, huh?" Mickey's question is spoken against Ian's lips.

_"You_ do it for me." Ian, cheesy fucker, says right before closing the gap between them.

Their make-out is cut short, however, because both of them have failed to calculate that Apollo is sand-wiched right between them.

The fat fuck snatches Ian's Pop Tart right out of his hand.

"Mother _fucker!"_ Ian yells as Apollo jumps out of Mickey's arms and bolts straight for the backdoor.

And while Mickey watches Ian chase around a raccoon with a Pop Tart, all he can think about is how much he absolutely _loves_ the dumbass.


End file.
